This week I present another of Rabbi Sack’s Divrei Torah. This
one is nice on its own and presents an interesting criterion of
leadership also discussed by Howard Gardner, the famous
educational theorist. Here is a question to reflect on for our
class: how might Sack’s analysis assist us in our deconstruction
of the penultimate meeting between Joseph and his father Jacob?
How do Sacks and Zornberg differ in their analysis? Can you
relate it to different textual readings or other issues? Enjoy…
Chayei Sarah - Beginning the Journey

Every year, when we read the Akeda, the attempted sacrifice of
Isaac as a test of Abraham’s loyalty to G-d [the Torah’s opinion—
not mine], we have so many questions. So this year, I offer a
collage of interesting insights from our Sages on a very
interesting question that is actually raised in our High Holy
Day prayerbook.

You will recall that on Rosh Hashana, the Musaf amida
is divided into three sections: Malchuyot (the Kingship of G-d),
Zichronot (How G-d remembers promises), and Shofarot (the
sounding of the shofar in Jewish history). The Zichronot section
mentions the Akeda in which “Abraham our patriarch conquered his
quality of mercy and brought his son forward as an offering.”
But, interestingly enough, just before the final bracha, there
appears the phrase “v’et Akedat Yitzchak l’zaro ha’yom
b’rachamim tizkor” – “and remember today the Akeda of Isaac for
the sake of his descendants.” So the question is very simple:
what special merit does Isaac’s role bear when the Torah, and
the rest of the Zichronot prayer emphasizes the role of Abraham?

This is a very important theological question. The
Brisker Rav offers a very interesting answer: Abraham’s merit
is by far the greater, yet we as descendants can only depend on
the merit of Isaac. This is a very strange answer from one of
the most logical of our commentaries—by a Litvak to boot! What
does the Brisker Rav mean to tell us by this insight?

In his commentary, the Brisker credits Abraham
with “selflessness to fulfill the Divine command” and Yitzchak
with “eagerness to be offered.” He then argues that Abraham’s
deed was greater, perhaps because (as Rabbi Horowitz had
observed 100 years before) the active fulfillment of a
commandment is superior to its passive fulfillment. That is,
Abraham had many things to do in order to make the command
reality, while Isaac’s passivity was the rock upon which the
fulfillment of the commandment depended. This being the case,
how can the Brisker then state, in apparent refutation of his
own Litvak logic, that the descendants of Isaac will gain merit
by specifically recalling his actions on Rosh Hashana?

The answer may well be that the Brisker, though he did
not wish to say so openly, agreed with the position of Rabbi
Shimshon Rafael Hirsch of Germany who lived just before him.
Hirsch wrote categorically (in German mind you which the Brisker
read fluently) that the Akeda was designed to teach that human
sacrifice was abhorrent to the Divine. Why not write this
openly? Think of the situation in Russia at the time the Brisker
wrote his commentary in the first decade of the 20th century.
There the belief that the Jews were the murderers of Jesus was
everywhere among the peasantry. Indeed, the Beiles Trial proved
that belief in the blood libel was alive and well in Russia in
the 20th century. Knowing this, it is possible that the Brisker
dared not write openly of Abraham’s merit when it was associated
with blood and sacrifices.

But, as to the question asked at the beginning: why
recall the merit of the son over that of the father? All the
traditional answers are problematic, Rabbi Sacks, sees the Akeda
as a series of parallel bonds of trust: one between God and
Abraham, one between Abraham and Isaac, and one between God and
Isaac. Each of these bonds is “non exclusionary” and thus one
does not depend on the other. We will consider this in great
detail next year at Rosh Hashana. Abraham being commanded to
offer Isaac is a completely independent issue from Isaac’s
following his father obediently.

I have purposely left us with much to think about and
already begun pointing us towards next year, may we all be there
together. After we finish Bereishit, we will will go backwards
a bit to Lech Lecha and we will encounter G-d and Abraham
afresh. May we never stop learning.

Avram dared to be different. Yes, his father did leave his
familial hometown of Ur Kasdim and with the intention of coming
to Canaan, but he died en route. Yes, it is true that Avram
completed the journey when G-d asked him to, and this was
difficult because it involved a loss of familiar homeland,
relatives, and—most importantly—a new monotheistic faith. But,
at the first sign of a challenge, Avram fled a famine and went
to Egypt without waiting to see if G-d would assist him. The
midrashim tell us that Avram was the Patriarch who exemplified
hospitality and used it to acquaint people with his unique
belief.

Here we see a man who was superior to Noah, a man who
dared to be different as Rabbi Sacks puts it, and a man who,
unlike Noah, did not stand by when he saw evil. Avram confronted
G-d when he heard that it was the Divine desire to destroy Sodom
and Gomorrah; indeed his challenge rings through the ages; “Will
the Judge of the World not deal justly?” Yes, we may argue that
the Akeda, the attempted offering of Isaac, shows that Avram can
be accused of taking G-d’s words too literally. As Rashi shows,
Avram seems to have interpreted the command ‘take him up’ to
mean “offer him” (the root of the words is identical). We are
also told that Sarai assisted her husband in every way and took
the initiative in converting women to monotheism.

These are stupendous achievements. Together Avram and
Sarai richly deserved to have the Divine name inserted into
theirs, forever being recalled therefore as Abraham and Sarah.
They were, of course, the first Jews, bringers of monotheism to
a new region, and sacrificing a great deal in the process.

Sarah and Abraham’s greatness and willingness to be
unique is further attested to by the simple fact that no one
else joined the religion despite their efforts to proselytize.
The Maggid of Dubnow explains that this happened because these
converts were only told to believe in G-d and never told to do
any mitzvoth to indicate belief and commitment to their newfound
faith. Abraham’s descendants Isaac and Jacob, for whatever
reason, did no better. In fact, the only people who believed in
the G-d of Abraham were his family until the Exodus. It took
until the Egyptian Exodus for non-members of Abraham’s family to
associate with this new God. I use the word “associate” rather
than “believe in” because the rabble of non-Israelite slaves who
took advantage of the chaotic aftermath of the tenth plague to
join the Exodus never fully believed in the God of Abraham.Their
problematic non-conformist behavior persisted through the desert
journey. The Torah calls them the “mixed multitude” and their
behaviour was problematic throughout the desert journey.

Our grandparents loved to proclaim: “Ez shver zu zein a
Yid” – it is very hard to be Jewish. Our religion is often
demanding, we often go to great lengths to follow its precepts,
and sometimes we wonder, almost paraphrasing Tevye, “you
couldn’t have made it a little easier G-d?” But then we realize
the exhilaration of self-discipline, of living on the edge, of
always trying to do better and admitting we are all too human.
Daring to be different isn’t easy. Sometimes we doubt it may not
seem worth the effort, but over the long haul—the spiritual
journey— is worth it.

Rabbi Sacks has begun a year long series on “Jewish Leadership”
through the lens of the weekly parasha. When I feel that what he
says resonates for me personally, I will publish it. I really
like today’s evaluation of the Torah’s famous analysis of Noah:
Taking
Responsibility